Last weekend ex-Cyclone Oswald dumped on Queensland and parts of New South Wales.
Our farm was merely inconvenienced – we were cut-off overnight when the roads came up, but power was restored within eight hours, the phone and internet a few days later. Half a dozen trees were uprooted and mobile service disrupted, but we were grateful. On Sunday, Bearhands and I stood in our flooded paddock catching fish(!) and toasting the rain; watching it soak our parched farm.
Then in the early hours of Tuesday morning I learned that a childhood friend was fighting for her life after a freak accident that claimed the life of her three year old son. The following day another mate uploaded this photo taken of us on my twelfth birthday.
Comments abounded about our fresh faces – unaware of the tragedies each of us would face. This little group would weather life’s challenges and suffer great losses.
Since learning of the accident I’ve been able to write anything here. Waiting for news brings back the memories of waiting for updates after David’s accident. The post I’d written for the Big Sister’s first day of kindy on Tuesday seems flippant. I can’t concentrate. I’d hoped to contribute to a post for Salz Dummy Spit, but my heart just isn’t in it.
So I’m writing the only post that is coming to me – a letter to the Birthday Girl.
Dear Amanda, Happy twelfth birthday. You’re a lovely bright young lady with loads of potential, but you’re overwhelmed by self doubt. For the moment, try not to worry about what other people think. It won’t always be like this. One day you’ll feel comfortable in your skin. In your thirties you’ll hear the term too school for cool and know that you’ve been this way all along. Boys, pffft. No hurry. The people who tell you “You’ll know when you’ve met the one” are right. You will. He’s wonderful. You’ll be so grateful to have him by your side – guiding, calming, comforting and insisting that you think too much. (It’s true, you do.) He’s a great bloke – answer his calls a little earlier than I did. Treasure the moments you have with your pesky brothers, David and Ant. Yes, I know they’ve made a nuisance of themselves at your sleepover, but they grow into fantastic men that you’ll love even more fiercely than you do now. The memories you’re making now will sustain you after David is gone. Stop trying to give yourself a smiley with a lighter – you are not nearly hard core enough to pull it off. And don’t drink so much at the Year Twelve graduation party. Keep smiling Sunshine*. There’s lots coming for you darling – good and bad, but you are infinitely stronger and more capable than you know. Surrounded by your family and friends, you’ll make this life a shining success. All my love,Amanda * Your hockey coach Siddo is lying, you’re not his favourite – years later at his funeral you’ll discover that he says this to everyone. You’ll feel daft, but grateful that you didn’t realise until now. Make sure Mum nominates him for an Australia Day honour – he’ll win.
Oh Amanda… you have brought me to tears again. Your childhood friend would be so touched to read this and I sincerely hope she will when she recovers. I haven’t known you for nearly as long, and not as well as I wish I did. But I have *always* admired and respected you. You are such an amazing, inspiring, warm, beautiful person and you bring so much to everyone whose lives you touch.
I wish I could hug you – probably because it would make me feel better… like you always do.
Lots of love,
Beth
xx
And now you’ve made me cry Beth. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we!
Thank you for saying such kind things – twelve year old me definitely won’t believe them though! 🙂
I’m hoping to make it to Canberra this year, we should catch up for a wine. I’ll send you a message when we decide some dates.
Love,
Amanda
xx
That would be SO great! I would so love to see you! (I will remember to bring tissues) 😉
Huge Cyber hugs. Blog posts can wait don’t worry. Look after yourself and your friend. I really do hope she recovers well. If i was to give my younger self some advice is not to worry about everyone else and only worry about you and the people who care about you.
Thanks Salz – hope we can collaborate on something else shortly. Happy World Hijab Day! x
Hooping your friend has a speedy recovery. Lovely post, Amanda xx
Thanks Tina.
Oh how beautiful and sad. It’s so timely that I read this now. I’ve been thinking so much about grief and loss and how we can’t avoid it. I don’t know how we are all supposed to live in the face of death sometimes, but we do. I’m sending your friend strength to recover and then to live life without her son. I just found your blog, and I just loved this post.
Thanks Sarah x
Beautiful post. I often look at old photos, thinking how oblivious everyone in them is to what lay ahead. That’s life I guess. I’m sorry for the storms you have weathered, but they’ve obviously made you strong. Hope your friend will be okay xx
Thanks Cathy. x
Hello Amanda, I imagine that little boy is the one we heard about on the news. How devastating. Your poor friend, and life will never ever be the same for all the family and their friends, including you.
You 12 year olds look so very sweet and so very much poised on the brink of young womanhood. Thank god our lives as children are so unknowing of all the ups and downs to come.
I agree Seana – I don’t think I’d want that crystal ball, even now.
What a beautiful letter, you brought tears to my eyes too. Having read the diary I started when I was 12 it is an age i’ve been thinking a lot about. I wish I knew then what I know. Much love to you honey xx
Thanks Catherine – a friend and I were just discussing how much we’d love to relive our early twenties with the knowledge that being thirty-something brings.
A beautiful message Amanda.
I saw the news and my heart sank. Like you, we were just inconvenienced. No biggie. But one of my close friends has lost everything she owned.
Wishing your friend strength, love and faith. x
I’ve known you since before you were twelve and you were a happy confidant and very dramatic young girl whom we all loved. You are now an equally confidant successful and beautiful young woman whom we all still love. It was so sad to hear about your friend whom I hope is going to make a full recovery. Incidentally a good friend if mine works with your friend Zara and they are all devastated by the news. We are all praying for her and the family.
Dramatic is code for painful – right Dawn? Thanks for praying for Zara and her family.
PS. I love you too xxx
Oh Amanda what a fantastic letter, and I hope your friend is okay but considering she lost her son I doubt she’ll ever ‘recover’ or ‘be okay. Very sad, when I saw it on the news a tiny piece of my heart broke because I have a 3 year old. Back to the letter, such a goodie, if I could go back in time I would tell a younger self to realise how great she looked, even though she never thought she did, and that not to believe every nice thing boys say to you 🙂 Em
What a beautiful letter. I’m so sorry that your friend has lost her precious little boy. Words can not do any justice at all. Absolutely heartbreaking. It’s been lovely finding your blog via FYBF and I’ll most certainly be back x
It’s hard to find the right words in this circumstances… I hope your friend will recover and find peace in life after loosing her son… It’s very sad…
Your letter is beautiful.
It’s probably a good thing that we can’t really write a letter to our younger selves, because along with the wisdom and guidance there is the bad news that you can’t avoid and you can’t change. And as a child, it seems so far away. I hope your friend recovers soon, but of course her loss means her life will never be the same. I’m sorry to hear of their sad news.
Such a sad and incredibly beautiful post at the same time – my heart goes out to your friend.
Goodness, 12 year olds know so much, while knowing so little, this is probably for the best though. I was never cool enough for a smiley with a lighter – no way.
Giving yourself a smiley with a lighter! Ah the memories. What a fantastic way to walk down memory lane.
I would tell my twelve year old self that life is filled with so many amazing experiences that will each shape you in some incredible way making you the wonderful person you are. Don’t worry about what you want to ‘do’, practise just being a bit more. Do what you love and enjoy doing it. Everything else will fall into place. x
Such a lovely post.
There are so many things I would tell myself…but I am glad that I learned the lessons I did and in the way I did.
And I wonder what my 60 year old self would tell the current version of me?
The sixty-year-old me would probably look at my complaining about the kids, nod indulgently then tell me “You’re going to miss this”. Bitch is probably right!
This is so beautiful , and SUCH good advice. Thanks for Rewinding.
Thanks for hosting – I loved this link up.
I love your wisdom. There is so much I would have liked to have told my 12 year old self, but I know she wouldn’t have listened.
I doubt mine would have either Marcy – she was too busy reading TV Hits and blutacking posters on her wall!